


Woven Together in Darkness

by Siver



Category: Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective
Genre: Gen, Post-Game(s), new timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 22:48:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11278365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siver/pseuds/Siver
Summary: Some of them know what happened. Some don't, but they are all left with the effects. Some nights are hard to handle, but they have each other.





	Woven Together in Darkness

Moonlight trickles through the window. It’s a peaceful night, but none of that peace reaches the man tossing and turning in bed.

Cabanela’s eyes shoot open with a sharp gasp. He lies still, tentative, waiting for the shadows of pain to be real or to fade; he doesn’t know which to expect. He doesn’t know if his breath will shatter fragile bones or calm his pounding heart. He doesn’t know where to attach the heavy feeling and fear of loss.

A decision that seems to skip his brain and goes straight to his hands is made. He’s sitting now, automatically dialing a number, his hand throttling the phone’s receiver until his eyes fall on the clock. It’s far too late. They’re fine, they’re fine. He’s fine. Who is he to go calling over this like a small child?

He sets the phone down carefully. He’s calmer now. Of course he is. What’s a little nightmare to him? He sinks back into his pillows and closes his eyes. He has an early start tomorrow.

A blinding flare. Pain like he’s never known before. Dark pools over a twisted grin like a knife. Guns and watches and birds. His eyes flash open.

The rest of the night can go sleepless. It wouldn’t be the first time.

 

Heavy curtains help to keep out potential disturbances, but there are some things they cannot block.

Jowd awakens to stare into darkness, something that’s starting to feel like habit. It’s becoming a routine of sorts: wake up, reorient, see that Alma is asleep at his side, and remind himself that Kamila is just down the hall.

The details of his dreams vary from the heard gunshot, to the crackle of electricity, to the gun in his hand, to a meeting in the courtyard, to the long years in prison, to isolation, to the dark depths of a submarine. Varied details, but the same theme.

It’s funny really. If he didn’t fear waking Alma he’d laugh on the spot. That time no longer exists. He couldn’t ask for a better life, but the nights won’t let him forget. It’s ironic; he’s certain he had more restful nights at times in that prison cell.

He looks at the phone and for just a moment is sorely tempted. He shakes his head. He knows he’s safe as well. Why shouldn’t he be? No need to raise questions and there’s far too much risk of suspicion there.

Try as he might he knows sleep won’t come now. He’s content to sit up and watch the slowly brightening room.

 

It’s a bright and early morning in the station. Nods and greetings are exchanged. Cabanela notes the shades of tired in Jowd’s face.

“Rough niiight? Workin’ on stuff without me, baby?”

“Just a long one, but nothing exciting I’m sorry to say.”

It’s not right, Cabanela knows, hasn’t been right for a while. It’s filed away into his mounting list of suspicions. This particular puzzle will take time and patience to crack. Wrenching open the sealed box that is Jowd is no mean feat, but when has he ever backed down from a challenge?

Jowd knows Cabanela puts on a good show, but he’s had a long time to get to know his patterns. He recognises the different rhythm to his step, the even more rapid emptying of the coffee pot and the extra brightness to his words as if they weren’t shiny enough already. A solid act to anyone else, but the curtain is starting to slip. He hopes the tiredness and the suspicion he catches in some of those looks will fade soon. Chances of the first? Likely reasonable. Chances of the second? Likely nil.

Regardless, some things are best left alone. Cabanela can rail against him all he wants and Jowd knows he will, but he is determined to keep this peace. The horrors are his to keep and his alone.

***

It took some time before sleep felt like less of an alien thing. Yomiel’s body is still familiar with its needs, but a mind with ten years to forget takes time to remember.

Sleep is welcome at times. It’s a break from life, breaks he desperately craved in his past life. Other times he wishes he could do without and keep control of his thoughts instead of being plagued by the nightmares of another time.

It’s a nightmare that awakes him once more and leaves him feeling trapped and lost for seconds that seem to stretch away before he can come back to himself. It’s overwhelming at first, all the sensations he went so long without: heartbeat, warmth – a little too warm, Sissel’s weight beside him, her quiet breath loud in his ears, slight soreness in his legs from an awkward position – actual pain! It’s a grounding of sorts though one he tries to keep to himself in the face of Sissel’s looks.

The thought of returning to dreams of a cold eternity, vengeance and loss is not remotely appealing. He stares at the ceiling. He has other things he can focus on. Sleep can come another time.

 

Sissel wakes up too early, tired and with a sadness weighing on her. She can’t remember everything she dreamed, but she knows she visited the prison where her fiancé dwelt for too long, longer than he had already done.

She reaches beside her and her hand finds emptiness. Panic and confusion seize her. She remembers another dream: one of him leaving her, one of him being gone forever, one of him dying; it’s one she’s had multiple times. She sits gripping the blankets. He was here. He was here. He was here. Just last night he was here. She breathes out. She knows everything is okay. It took a long time, but life is as it should be.

He only got up before her as he regularly does. That’s all. Very early admittedly, but that’s not so unusual either. She still has some time to get more sleep if she wants. She shies away from the idea. That’s one place she can’t bear to return to right now. She’ll manage. She can make up for it tonight (she hopes). For now she will sit. Calm herself before rising to join Yomiel.

 

They meet in their small kitchen. Yomiel glances up from cooking breakfast when Sissel enters with a yawn and a smile thrown his way. Sometimes he clings to that smile. Sometimes he can’t bear it and wonders if he should tell her everything. Would she still wear that smile then? The decision weighs heavily before he tucks it away. She’s happy. They have their lives. She has _her_ life. That’s more than enough for now.

Sissel catches Yomiel’s look sometimes, a mixture of worry and uncertainty before it fades behind whatever expression he decides to put on next. There are changes that she still can’t come up with a satisfactory explanation for. She doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the time he picked up a hot pan barehanded and dropped it in shock or his laughs between hisses of pain as she tended to his hands.

It was frightening. It was unsettling as are his distant looks and the looks he sometimes gives her as though he can’t believe she’s there, as though he can’t believe he’s here.

Something happened. Something changed. She only hopes one day he will tell her.

***

Lynne considers herself a good sleeper, or she used to. Lately she’s been waking at weird hours and feeling more tired than when she went to bed.

It’s with unease she awakens once more with the rush of water still seeming to sound in her ears. It’s not always water. Sometimes it’s a loud bang like a gunshot, and other times it’s a confusing mass of loudness that she can’t attach to anything specific.

Sometimes she figures it’s just leftovers, part and parcel of the job. Yet, somehow she knows that’s not quite right. She can’t shake the nagging feeling she’s forgetting something or the expectation to meet… someone.

She also doesn’t have an explanation for the unease she feels at times when she passes by the pier. Sure, she can’t swim – sometimes she really feels like she’d better learn – but it never used to bother her.

She shifts uncomfortably. Part of her just wants to go back to sleep. The rest of her most definitely does not. It would be really nice, she thinks, if Missile would come in. She could use his doggy comfort right now.

 

Missile often dreams small dreams of chases and running and barking. But, sometimes other things creep in and he remembers the time before now.

He thinks back through his memories of all the time spent that night with Sissel and protecting his Kamila. An important night. A night well spent.

It’s not so bad to wake up from such dreams. It happened, they fixed it and now they’re here. Everyone is okay. His mistresses are safe and while he misses Kamila living with them he sees her so often it’s not so bad either.

He’s perfectly content with his life, but he knows not all is always well with Lynne. She sometimes gets upset and afraid and what’s a good dog to do then but go to her and curl up beside her and try to keep the fear away.

His ears prick at noise from her room and he slides off the sofa to pad away to her room. A run-fueled jump carries him up to her bed where she’s sitting up. He climbs into her lap while her hands run through his fur.

He may be a little dog whose best skill is barking – sadly barks can’t scare away bad thoughts – but he’ll always to do his best to be there for his Miss Lynne.

 

Lynne does eventually fall asleep again and wakes up with Missile in the crook of her arm. Sometimes she thinks getting that little Pomeranian puppy that day was the best decision she made.

She drags herself up and Missile follows. She pours breakfast for both herself and Missile into bowls and gives him a scratch behind the ears.

“I don’t know how but I’d swear you always know when I need you.”

Missile wags his tail hard at her remark. Of course he knows. He always knows when his Lynne needs him. If there’s one thing he regrets it’s not being able to speak with her anymore. He’d let her know that everything is okay and all the bad stuff doesn’t exist anymore. She has nothing to worry about or be scared of. He’ll always be here for her.

***

Sissel is content in his ways. He remembers that single night and he remembers the time before as a simple cat. Some things haven’t changed much. Some things have. He doesn’t sleep anymore, but he finds he doesn’t miss it. Nights let him roam freely without worrying about the sleeping family. It’s an opportunity to learn and wander if he chooses without worry of discovery.

However, lately he finds himself staying home to watch over them. The good detective can take care of himself. Sissel does look out for him and sometimes they have quiet talks in the long hours of the night, but it is the Little Lady that concerns him more. Jowd knows of everything. Jowd holds his memories still. Kamila only has meaningless fears in nightmares that leave her sobbing.

It is on one such night that he goes padding past her room, his ears pricking at the sound of her pain. He wishes he can do more for her, but he can jump onto her bed, let her pet and hold him. She speaks to him about her dreams often and he tries to give her comforting purrs and meows in response until she calms enough to sleep while he curls up beside her.

Sleep is not something he needs and he’s glad for it.

 

Some nights pass by without incident. Some do not. Kamila wakes up in tears with a chill running through her. She can never remember exactly what she dreamed – some nightmares are of a loud bang and unknown terror. Yet in others it’s cold and lonely with the sounds of water all around and a dread gripping her to her bones.

Sometimes she can’t stand it and goes to her parents’ room where she often finds her father awake. They sit quietly together until she falls asleep in his arms. Other times such as this night she can only bring herself to curl up and cling to her plush dog. She wants to sleep and forget. She doesn’t want to sleep in case the nightmares come back.

There’s a small dip in her mattress and a meow. She squints in the darkness as Sissel bumps against her. He lets her pull him close. She tells him of her dreams in a broken whisper. She knows he can’t understand her really, can he? She wonders sometimes. Nevertheless it’s a comfort to talk to him and he stays by her side for the rest of the night.

 

Sissel and Kamila trail down into the kitchen the next morning together.

Sissel hangs close to Kamila. She’s sleepy still and slouches into her seat at the table. Her arm knocks into her glass of juice and it would have fallen if Sissel, already on high alert, didn’t nudge it back with a quick ghostly jump. He’s getting better at catching small accidents before they can happen.

The Little Lady had a bad enough night as was. If he can keep her morning from following suit, it’s good enough for him.

Kamila feels overtired and only gives mumbled responses to her parents’ comments. Part way through her toast Sissel jumps onto the chair beside her. He really is the best cat and makes the scary stuff seem not so bad. She’ll never stop being glad for the day her dad came home with the little stray. She reaches out to scratch behind his ears. Her thanks are in her smiles and pets.


End file.
